


I Need Healing

by TheCourtIsInSession



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Esteem Issues, and damnit I'm gonna write about him learning to heal, because he deserves it babey!!!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2019-08-19 15:09:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16536980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCourtIsInSession/pseuds/TheCourtIsInSession
Summary: A collection of semi-connected short stories revolving around Genji and his journey to accepting himself. A.K.A. Genji cries a lot and is very angry.





	1. Frustration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because losing 80% of your body is rough.

_In._

_Out._

_In._

_Out._

_In._

_…_

_Enough of this._

His hands, foreign and unfeeling, braced unsteadily against the floor as he rose. The sterile, unkind white and gray of the room was far from familiar, and far from welcome. The light, soft silks and smooth wooden floors of his home, of Hanamura - those beautiful, luxurious palace rooms and carefully-tended gardens he’d spent his entire life in - were what he wanted _desperately_ to see. Breathing exercises hardly helped to bury the anger and sadness he felt.

He walked to the small, private bathroom. It was basic, supplied with generic soaps and towels, unmarked save for the small logo embroidered into a corner on each. A reminder of where he was, and who he owed.

A glance in the mirror sent a surge of fresh disgust through him and he was forced to look away with a shudder.

He was barely human anymore.

He couldn’t shake the thought as he pulled the latches on his mask, releasing it from his face with a click and a hiss after having struggled with locating the mechanisms for a few moments.

The skin beneath was rough, marred with burns and slashes that were still all too fresh, and burned at the touch of air when he slowly pried the old dressing off. Splotches of blood and bits of scab tore away with it, and he could feel some of the many, many wounds reopen. How infuriating.

A variety of medical supplies sat on the counter, more easily reachable for him than if they were in the drawers or cabinets around the room. A roll of gauze, medical tape, disinfectant, a handful of salves, a variety of powerful painkillers, and a tub of ointment. He reached for the tub, only to have his lack of coordination with this new body cause him to send it flying to the ground. He spat curses out; curses at the ointment, the scars on the ruins of his body, his brother, his family, _himself_.

He bent down unsteadily and fumbled with the tub, eventually managing to grab it with both of his hands. He placed it back on the counter, and set about struggling to open it as the wounds seeped beads of blood.

By the time he realized he couldn’t manage it, tears of frustration were pricking at the corners of his eyes. _A few months ago_ he could have opened this. _A few months ago_ he had his body. _A few months ago_ he was _human_ still. Now? Now he couldn’t stand to even look at himself in a damned mirror. Every piece of this body was a reminder of what he’d lost, and who’d taken it from him.

A violent sob tore through him, loud enough that he forced himself to choke back another, and another. He curled up on himself on the cold linoleum, shuddering as he cried.

A hiss from outside the bathroom made him freeze, before trying to scramble to his feet. _The door!_

By the time the visitor peeked in to the small bathroom, he’d only succeeded in falling to the game again, and as he met their eyes, he felt a wave of hot embarrassment.

They crouched down, tutting softly. “You’ve made a real mess of yourself, young man.” A woman. Middle-aged, with an authoritative tone. Her tone reminded him of his mother and nannies’ chastisements throughout childhood. “Get up.” It was a command, but she offered both hands to help him to his feet.

Sniffling and shaking, he reached out, and she grabbed his hands firmly, and tugged him to his feet. Her hands remained on his upper arms for a brief moment, steadying him and forcing him to look her in the eye as tears and blood ran down his face. Her expression wasn’t gentle, but neither was it reprimanding, either. Her hair and eyes were dark, her skin a deep umber. A tattoo accented her left eye, drawing his own eyes to meet hers against his will. She smiled.

“Let’s get you cleaned up. I doubt you want an infection to worry about on top of… everything else.”

He watched as she wet a towel and wrung it out, before turning back to him. Her hands rose to his face, one holding his synthetic lower jaw firmly, and the other dabbing at the mess that was his face- what was left of it. Even as it stung, even as a sob tried to tear it’s way out of his throat, he forced himself to remain still until she finished. A deep, tense breath left him when she set the towel on the counter, and glanced around.

Her eyes fell upon the tub, finally. She scooped it up quickly, and deftly opened it, sparking a nigh unbearable twinge of fury in Genji. A couple seconds! _A couple seconds!_ It hadn’t even been difficult to open, he was just useless! He couldn’t even take care of himself in the most simple of ways!

He gritted his teeth against the false ones lining his prosthetic jaw and held himself back from weeping again. She was silent as she worked, until she’d finished spreading the ointment over his cuts.

After finishing that, she grabbed the fresh gauze off the counter. She covered the wounds carefully, tearing short lengths of gauze from the roll at a time to cover the ugly wounds. She finished and used the medical tape to ensure it would stay in place - at least until it needed to be changed again.

His eyes followed her as she washed her hands thoroughly, still embarrassed at having been caught in such a vulnerable state. When she turned back, she rested her hands on her hips.

“I believe you were told by Dr. Ziegler to ask a nurse for assistance with your injuries until you had successfully completed your PT.” She was _scolding_ him. He’d never even _met_ her, yet he felt a wave of shame wash over him.

“...I don’t want help.” He managed to mumble.

“You want to sit on the floor crying over a tub of ointment for an hours every day?”

He felt heat rush to his cheeks and ears. “No!”

She quirked an eyebrow. “No? Then why have you been doing exactly that for the past week?”

He looked to his feet, unable to answer. He didn’t want their help. He hadn’t asked to be brought back from the verge of death, only to be forced to struggle as he learned to operate a body again. He hadn’t asked to live.

“Why do you care?” He choked out, feeling tears welling up yet again.

“Overwatch didn’t save your life out of a desire to help you. It saved you because you’re useful to us.” Her tone was even and measured. Even if he hadn’t been on the verge of yet another breakdown, he wouldn’t have been able to decipher it. “But that doesn’t mean that we want you to suffer while you’re here.” She paused. “Look at me, Genji Shimada.”

He forced his eyes up, meeting hers as she continued. “Dr. Ziegler didn’t save you because Overwatch needed intel. She saved you because you needed help. Commander Reyes didn’t order a team be sent to Hanamura to retrieve you thinking you’d be useless. You’re here. We will _not_ let you die or waste away.” Determination burned in her eyes. A small spark was ignited in him as well, but it was gone as quickly as it came.

“I agreed to be a weapon for your use.” He forced himself to say. “Anything beyond that is of no concern to you or the rest of this organization.”

“...” For a moment, she didn’t speak.

“Please leave my quarters.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Mr. Shimada.” She murmured. “I hope that you grow to see things differently while you’re with us.”

With that, she left. And he was alone. Again.


	2. Appointment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A routine check-up.

He gripped the edge of the cot. Anxiety was all he could feel as the blonde woman before him looked over the clipboard detailing the condition he was in. Occasionally she’d write on the pages as she flipped through, quick little notes. Finally she set the clipboard down, and offered him a tired smile. Her make-up couldn’t hide the dark circles under her eyes, or the way she yawned every few minutes.

“Genji, could you do a few simple exercises for me? I need to see how these new tendons of yours are functioning.” Dr. Ziegler explained.

He nodded. As they went through each exercise, she examined the way he moved closely, questioning how smoothly his body moved, how much effort it took, if he felt any pain, etc., etc…

“Everything seems to be working well… There’s just one more thing I need from you for this visit.”

“And what would that be?” He asked warily. Dr. Ziegler had been kind and attentive since he’d been saved by Overwatch, but he couldn’t bring himself to fully relax in a clinical setting. He’d been conscious for fragments of his body being rebuilt, and blurry memories of having this body hooked up to what had been left of him… Pain that vivid wasn’t easily forgotten.

“A psychological evaluation. You can complete it in the lobby, if you’d prefer.” She offered a clipboard to him. He took it in both hands, careful not to drop it or the pencil she placed atop it as he left the room. Over the past year, he’d gotten better at moving around. He was being sent out on low-risk missions, but he still wasn’t comfortable with fine movements quite yet. He wasn’t excited to see his sloppy handwriting again, as he only ever compared it to the lazy-yet-elegant penmanship he'd possessed before…

Well, before everything that's landed him here.

The seat by the far window was the closest to the space heater in the room. He bee-lined for it, quickly situating himself in the seat and resting the clipboard against his thighs. His name was printed at the top in neat, solid letters alongside the date. He started reading through the questions on the list.

_ In the six (6) months, which of the following have you experienced: _

_ Anxiety over many things in my life _

_ An inability to control my anxiety _

_ Feeling restless, irritable, or agitated without knowing why _

_ Difficulty getting to sleep, staying asleep, or feeling unrested when waking _

_ Moments of extreme panic wherein I had accelerated heart rate, sweating, shaking, trembling, tingling, difficulty breathing, or swallowing _

_ Pain in my chest _

_ Nausea _

_ Dizziness _

_ Fainting _

_ Cold or hot flashes _

_ Fear of losing my mind or dying _

He checked nearly all of them off, leaving only  _ nausea  _ and  _ cold or hot flashes  _ unchecked. He wasn’t sure he was even capable of feeling them anymore.

_ Over the past six (6) months, how often have you experienced panic and/or anxiety attacks? _

He paused. He supposed lately he only had them on a weekly basis. That was better than when he’d first arrived, and each day was punctuated with a session of hysterics. These days were… easier.

_ Have you purposely avoided situations, people, or activities in which you might have a panic and/or anxiety attack? _

Yes. On several occasions he’d refused to engage in the weekly “club” meetings Jesse and Lena tried to convince him to attend. They’d quickly taken to him once Captain Amari had shamed him into interaction with at least  _ some  _ of the other agents.

_ “You’re going to be working with some of these people in life-or-death situations, Shimada. If you don’t at least start talking with them on your own, I’ll drag you out there myself and force you to do so.” Small as she was, she was immovable. Genji couldn’t have tried to argue when she was this set on something. _

_ “...I’ll… try.” Not that he expected much to come out of it. _

Now, Jesse and Lena often went out of their way to check in on him. They offered to spar with him often, or to visit the botanical gardens nearby, or to do his PT exercises alongside him. He didn’t always accept, but it was comforting to have them around so often. Jesse was good at helping him clear his mind, and Lena offered a sympathetic ear; her chronal disassociation had taken time to get used to, and she still wasn’t quite the same, and never would be. He hoped her optimism would come to him, too, in time. He started reading through the questionnaire again.

_ Memories, flashbacks, or nightmares of a traumatic event _

_ Loss of trust in myself and/or others _

_ Pessimism _

_ Fear, guilt, or shame for a traumatic event _

_ Blaming myself and/or other for a traumatic event _

_ Loss of interest in hobbies or other activities I used to enjoy _

_ Becoming angry because of minor issues/for no reason at all _

_ Recklessness/Taking unnecessary risks _

_ Heightened vigilance or tension, a tendency to be “jumpy” _

Yes to all of the above. Though, that last one was a good thing for him, these days.

As he worked through the questionnaire over the next half hour, most questions were answered affirmatively. The past few months had been rougher than any others in his life, but things were getting better. Slowly. Infuriatingly slowly. But still better.

He sat back after completing it, glancing over at the door to Dr. Ziegler’s office. It was closed, which likely meant she wasn’t done with whatever paperwork or patient she’d hurried off to take care of. With a glance around the room, he found little to occupy him. Some tabloids and a television with captions silently playing in the corner… He supposed the tabloids would be more interesting than the cliche drama playing on the television at the moment.

He set aside the clipboard and carefully shuffled the stack of magazines, eventually settling on one that featured Strike Commander Morrison, striking a victorious pose with rifle in hand.

_ OVERWATCH LAUNCHES SUCCESSFUL CAMPAIGN IN EGYP  _ T

_ OMNICS OVERTAKE SYDNEY, AUSTRALIAN PRIME MINISTER COMMENTS, “THE SITUATION IS UNDER CONTROL, AND OUTSIDE FORCES ARE UNWELCOME TO INTERFERE” _

Genji scoffed. Blackwatch agents in the country had been reporting an astonishing number of civilian deaths. It was unlikely they’d be able to take the city back without assistance, and it was certain that many more innocent people would die in the meantime.

As he flipped through the magazine, he found the pages detailing the organization’s recent victory in Egypt. Of course, none listed how Captain Amari’s familiarity with the people and area had been  _ essential  _ in defending the territory. Not a word on how she’d used her contacts within the Egyptian military to route supplies to civilians and keep people from dying of starvation, dehydration, or minor diseases. No mention of how she’d  _ personally  _ led the charge in Luxor against the enemy Omnics.

Maybe he was being a bit harsh. Morrison was a good Commander, to be sure. Genji wouldn’t dream of suggesting otherwise. But he knew Captain Amari. He knew how she’d worked herself to the bone with keeping as many people safe as she could have. Morrison had only been there for a handful of military meetings, and had taken command of defenses in two cities throughout their campaign. Genji just wanted the Captain to get the recognition she deserved.

“Well, well, hello, Genji.” A familiar, smooth voice greeted from next to him. He jumped, three shuriken at the ready with a soft series of  _ clicks  _ . He didn’t relax when he saw who it was.

“Dr. O’Deorain.”

The satisfied smirk her lips were twisted in was unsettling, but he was slowly becoming more accustomed to it. Slowly. “I’m glad to see you made it to your appointment on time. Angela told me you were late to the last… four?”

“I was busy.” He replied tersely.

“Busy tearing apart training dummies?  _ Very  _ important work.” She said. “I hear your work on the missions you’ve been dispatched on has been impressive.”

“Who is saying as much?” He disliked wherever this conversation was headed. Dr. O’Deorain had a way of unsettling anyone she spoke to. How her bedside manner might calm anyone was beyond him.

“A little bird I happen to speak with often.” Her smirk widened into a grin. “We might be seeing more of each other in the coming weeks. I look forward to working with your…” Her eyes ran over his body with an uncomfortable twinkle of excitement. “ _ Unique  _ attributes on a more independent basis.”

“...” If they were to spend time together in the future, he hoped only that her morbid curiosity would be satisfied with simple diagnostics and blood tests. But her reputation for unusual experimentation preceded her, and he doubted she would leave Dr. Ziegler’s work untouched. He prayed it would be for the better.

“Moi-” The light voice halted as both Genji’s and Dr. O’Deorain’s eyes turned to the blonde doctor. Dr. Ziegler cleared her throat. “Dr. O’Deorain. I wasn’t aware you’d be coming in early for your shift today.”

The red-head smiled thinly. “I was called in to help with a patient who I saw a few months ago… His replacement spinal cord was damaged in the last mission he was deployed on, and Dr. Santos  _ requested  _ I see if I could design a more durable prosthesis.”

“Ah,” Dr. Ziegler nodded. “I only wonder why he didn’t ask for me. I have more experience with prostheses…”

Dr. O’Deorain sighed. “You work yourself too hard, Angela. Besides, Gabriel’s had an eye on that one and I'm his  _ preferred _ doctor for Blackwatch operatives.” Dr. Ziegler’s brow furrowed, but before she could comment, a voice called out for Dr. O’Deorain. She glanced back at Genji, before addressing Dr. Ziegler again. “Take good care of this one. I’m excited to see what improvements I can make when he’s under my care.”

Dr. Ziegler watched her leave, then turned to Genji with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry about that, Genji. Have you completed that evaluation?”

He handed it to her wordlessly. As she turned to leave, he quietly asked, “Dr. O’Deorain is… Do you believe she’s  _ trustworthy?  _ ”

Her smile faded and she glanced away. “She’s very unconventional, but she is a member of Overwatch's medical division, nonetheless. I’m certain that she’ll respect any boundaries you’ve set. Just…” She searched for words for a moment. “Just don’t be surprised if she’s a bit  _ eager  _ to make some odd adjustments.”

“I will try to keep that in mind, Doctor.” He stood. “Am I free to leave?”

“Yes, it was good to see everything working as it should, Genji. Have a good day.”

“... Shouldn’t I talk to the secretary about scheduling my next appointment?”

“...No. I’m afraid you’ll no longer be my patient after this.”

As he walked out of the lobby, he couldn’t shake the feeling of unease Dr. O’Deorain had left with him.


	3. Rialto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rialto was a mess, but Genji has bigger problems.

Gunshots and screaming echoed in his ears as Genji climbed aboard the aircraft alongside the rest of the team. He quietly took a seat and strapped himself in beside Dr. O’Deorain, closing his eyes as he listened to Jesse and Reyes argue. Their voices were _almost_ drowned out by the roaring of the engines.

“We had a plan, goddamnit! You endangered us, you endangered _civilians_ , you put the entire _purpose_ of this fucking mission at risk!”

“Yeah? And the damned bureaucrats back at HQ would’ve let him go free without a second thought! He’s less dangerous dead than he was alive, doesn’t matter if it didn’t go ‘according to plan,’ Jesse!”

“This was supposed to be covert! Quick and quiet; get in, get the asshole, get out with him in tow. Now? Now the entire city knows we were here! And soon the whole _world_ will! That’s not how Blackwatch is supposed to operate!” Genji could tell by his voice that Jesse was shaking with anger. He hadn’t heard the man this angry in… well, in the time he’d known him.

Reyes walked towards the cockpit, and Jesse followed him. Now thier shouting was muted, and Genji couldn’t make out any words.

To his left, the doctor sighed heavily. “They’re _both_ idiots.”

He hummed. “They both have good points.”

“Perhaps, however I doubt Morrison will see it that way.” She said.

He didn’t respond to that, knowing that she was right. He wasn’t stupid. He, Dr. O’Deorain, and Jesse might be reprimanded, but Reyes was their CO on this mission. It was his call that had caused the mission to become this mess. The three of them were just… following his lead.

The thought left an oddly bitter taste in his mouth. Assassination was nothing new to him. In fact, that was what he’d done the most during the few short years he’d been with Blackwatch. But what Reyes had done hadn’t been planned. He hadn’t thought it through before he’d killed the man. Genji had botched a mission or two, but none had resulted in an entire _city_ being put at risk.

A gentle hand on his arm tore him from his thoughts. Dr. O’Deorain was examining the damage he’d taken during the mission. “My, my, you certainly took a beating from that heavy assault unit. Do you feel any pain?”

“My arm was grazed in a handful of places. I cannot feel any pain in any of the prostheses.” He said.

“I thought it might be a moment of sloppiness on her part, but I suppose Angela did you a favor in not completely reconstructing your nerves.” She smiled thinly. “I can’t imagine you’re a stranger to pain, though.”

He looked at her warily. What exactly was she getting at?

“Perhaps it’s time we start to make more comprehensive advancements to your body.” There was that gleam in her eyes, the excitement of a new _project_ was a joy of hers he might never understand.

“...What do you have in mind?” He asked carefully.

“How would you like to be able to _feel_ with these prostheses?” She asked.

He glanced away from her. He _did_ miss being able to experience texture and heat. It was a secret of his that he’d started collecting patches of different textiles, just to rub them between his fingers in private, seeking some small comfort from the immense pain he felt everyday. And yet… he wasn’t sure.

“Why are you offering? Is it not better for a field agent to not be able to feel pain in the majority of their body?”

Her smile turned wry. “Don’t mistake my offer as something I’m doing as _charity_ , or out of _pity_ for you, Genji.”

“Then why?”

“Because you are _far_ more interesting than any of the other projects Overwatch has given me. Imagine, constructing a _full body_ prosthesis, capable of doing anything an organic one might, and _more_ .” She paused. “Admittedly, it would require some collaboration with Angela, as I’m more experienced with genetics… But I’m sure she’d be _thrilled_ to see how her old patient is faring.” She ended dryly.

He supposed if Dr. Ziegler would be there as well… “Very well. But only if Dr. Ziegler has an ample amount of input.” Dr. O’Deorain was a genius, but sometimes her ideas included things like _strapping knives to his ankles_. Dr. Ziegler’s down-to-earth nature would temper Dr. O’Deorain’s more impulsive ideas.

The doctor grinned. “Delightful. I’ll contact her as soon as we’re released from our debriefing.” She immediately began typing into her holopad, her excitement palpable.

Just moments later, Jesse returned, expression sour. He flopped unceremoniously into the seat opposite Genji, not bothering with the straps. Genji met his gaze steadily.

Jesse sighed as he leaned forward, resting his forearms against his knees. “Am I the only one who thinks Reyes is out of his damned mind?”

“While I do not agree with his… _execution_ ,” Genji cringed at the unintentional pun. “He _has_ permanently nullified an enemy.”

Jesse’s face fell at the answer, and he looked to the doctor. “What about you, doc?”

She didn’t spare a glance at the cowboy, continuing to type as she spoke. “Gabriel did what he thought best, the rest of us are just here to follow orders. Don’t think about it too hard, Jesse. You might just drive yourself mad.”

Jesse sighed yet again, and Genji felt a prick of sympathy for the man. But what had happened had happened. And he had other worries. In a week, he was to be deployed to Japan yet again. He would track down and kill a distributor in Osaka, where the Shimada clan exported weapons and drugs overseas. He’d visited the area many times, as his father would train his brother in the ways of smuggling and managing the many intricacies of their underground empire. Genji, meanwhile, would spend most of his time frequenting the many bars, clubs, arcades, and game stores throughout the city. He’d become incredibly familiar with the area, far beyond just the warehouses they controlled there.

He thought on his upcoming mission throughout the remainder of the flight. Reyes only poked his head back in from the cockpit to announce that they were nearing HQ, and then to leave the aircraft.

Genji walked slowly behind Jesse on the way to their debriefing. He wasn’t eager to be between Jesse and Reyes if another argument broke out between them. Both men were liable to start throwing punches.

He was relieved when Reyes was ushered into an interrogation room by Gerard LaCroix, the latter’s expression a mix of frustration and exasperation. Jesse leaned against the glass and chewed through his sigar, while Genji and Dr. O’Deorain sat in the uncomfortable metal chairs in the hallway.

They were silent as Reyes was debriefed by an absolutely _livid_ Morrison and Captain Amari from within the room. LaCroix was clearly angry as well, but he seemed to be more disappointed with Reyes than anything else.

After some time, they motioned for Reyes to exit the room. He glanced at the three of them with an unreadable expression before turning and walking towards the barracks. Captain Amari waved Jesse in, and after him, Moira. By the time Genji was brought in, they seemed to be calmed down, their faces impassive.

“Agent Shimada.” Morrison greets. “Please, take a seat.”

Genji takes his seat quickly and mechanically, and awaits their questions with his hands folded in his lap.

“Are you injured at all?” Captain Amari asks quickly, eyeing the bandages on his arm and chest.

“Minor abrasions. They have been treated.” He answers.

“Were you aware of any intent on Commander Reyes’ part to deviate from the original plan prior to embarking on this mission?” Morrison’s voice is even, but Genji can hear the faint quiver of frustration he’s hiding.

“I was not.”

“Were you informed of the target’s identity prior to dropping?” Captain Amari asks.

“I was not.”

“Did Commander Reyes’ actions seem justified to you?” LaCroix is the calmest of the three, but his question is the only one Genji must consider for a moment.

“...It is not my place to determine that.”

LaCroix and Captain Amari exchange a glance. The latter leans forward, her brow creased with concern. “We’re not asking for you to make a decision. We’re asking for your opinion.” She’s pressing him to answer her, gently but firmly as she always has.

“He was provoked by Antonio, but his lack of restraint jeopardized the mission.” He struggles to find his words, still not understanding why _his_ opinion is of any importance here. He was a tool. That was all.

“And?” She prompts.

“And while I feel that killing Antonio was ultimately a better choice than capturing him, he placed not only himself, but the team and Overwatch as a whole at risk. His actions have destroyed any secrecy Blackwatch operated under.” He falls silent after that. The three before him contemplate his words privately for a moment, then begin murmuring among themselves.

_It was stupid._

_He had a point, but…_

_We should disband it-_

_There’s not really any point to it anymore-_

_He’s only going to get worse._

_People are going to get killed._

Captain Amari turns to him once more. “Agent Shimada.” He raises his eyes to hers. “You may leave now.”

He stands, bows his head, and leaves without a word. As mechanical as everything else about him.

As Genji drags himself to his room, he wonders where exactly he’d be without superiors to order him around. Assuming he somehow managed to survive after… _that_ without Overwatch’s intervention in the first place.

He hates the politics, to be sure. Hates the constant in-fighting between the Commanders. Hates the way Captain Amari had to settle disputes between them on a near daily basis. Hates how Reyes is getting increasingly rash with every mission he led. Hates how Morrison was starting to lag behind in his attempts to placate world leaders. Hates how now that Reyes had fucked this one up, Blackwatch’s days were almost certainly numbered.

He hates that he doesn’t know what happens to him if Blackwatch is disbanded. He’s a shell, and he knows it. Empty.

...No, that’s not quite right. He’s filled to the brim with anger, bitterness, and regret. Regret for what? He isn’t sure. He’d only wanted a life of happiness, to spend his time on things that brought him and those he loved pleasure. Video games, booze, delicious food, night clubs, _the works_.

But the Shimadas had an empire to run. They had work they needed done. They wanted him to be Hanzo’s right hand, his networker, his assistant, dutiful at all times and focused only on the _family_ and not the other things and people he’d come to value in his life. And he would have happily played his role, but alas, he wasn’t _dedicated_ enough. He wasn’t _polite_ enough. He wasn’t _perfect_ in the way they needed- they _wished_ him to be, and he was content with who he was.

So they sicced his own brother on him.

The man he’d grown up with, trained with, played with, laughed with, cried with, mourned with. The one person who had been there his entire life, whom he could _always_ go to when he needed help, even if he’d be given a raised eyebrow and condescending sigh. _His big brother_.

“Hey, ninja.” Pipes a familiar Southern twang from the door next to his own.

He looks up and meets Jesse’s eyes. The man looks tired, as though he’d been crying angry tears.

He says nothing as he waits for Jesse to spit out whatever he has to say.

“... Do you think we’re doing the right thing here? That Blackwatch is worth all the bloodshed?” He asks, finally.

Genji can’t help how the hard look he’s trained himself to maintain softens. It’s a question he no longer can afford to ask, as he’s learned from his own experiences, his own _family_ that questioning as much will only result in punishment.

“It does not matter. The world is better for the absence of those we kill.” He pauses, before echoing Dr. O’Deorain’s sentiment from earlier, albeit in a softer tone. “Thinking on it too thoroughly will only harm you.”

Those brown eyes fall to the floor, and Jesse mutters a bitter “Goodnight” to Genji as he closes his door again.

Genji is more than happy to be alone in his room and unconscious. He’s not in pain when he’s asleep.

Not until the nightmares start, anyway.


	4. Omnic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji is just trying to get by. A stranger thinks he needs some guidance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first little section (which is italicized), has a few brief descriptions of gore. The rest of the chapter has none. Please be aware if you have triggers related to this!

_ Breathing is impossible. _

_ He can’t feel his legs. His lower jaw… _

_ He tilts his head, and a sickening gurgle that might have been a sob comes from him. He can see it- his jaw,  _ **_he can see it a few feet away._ **

_ This can’t be happening. _

_ This can’t be happening. _

_ He can hear footsteps approaching him, and he sees the glint of metal, then sees it flash towards him. He raises an arm in desperation, unable to run. _

_ The  _ **_thud_ ** _ next to his head makes him want to vomit when he realizes what it is. Sure enough, when his eyes look over, it’s his right arm, severed cleanly from his shoulder, fingers still twitching wildly in reflex. _

_ He can’t even speak. _

_ He can’t say anything, even if he knew what to say. _

_ All Genji can do is look up into the dark eyes of his brother, the one who’d held him as he wept over their father’s death, who’d always begrudgingly accepted his invitations to parties, who’d always been able to outdrink him or beat him down in their martial arts lessons. _

_ And all he sees is pain in his expression as his vision dances with black spots, as it grows blurry with the tears that run down his face and sting where his jaw should be. _

_ Hanzo raises the blade again, and Genji can see the blue glow of his dragons, and then- _

There’s a scream in his throat, choked back as he sits up and is immediately hit with dizziness and an intense headache. It takes him a moment of frantic searching to realize where he is.

In a sewer.

Alone.

Sleeping on concrete with his meager pack as a pillow.

Safe,  _ mostly _ .

He falls back again, evens his breathing as things fall back into place.

His name is Genji Shimada, and he’s spending his time working odd jobs under the pretense of being an omnic. His time is split between good, honest work and shady dealings with criminals. He’s spent more time stealing, assassinating, and intimidating people in the past year and a half than he ever did when he was among the Shimada Clan. He travels light, doesn’t get attached to others, and never,  _ never _ stays in the same place for too long for fear of being hunted down by someone he’s wronged.

His name is Genji Shimada, and he’s hit rock fucking bottom.

He struggles to his feet, head still pounding from hunger as he slings his pack over his shoulder and starts walking back to the sewer exit. He’s thankful for the closed ventilation of his prostheses and armor, as he can’t smell the human waste less than a meter away. 

The light hurts his eyes and worsens his headache when he finally emerges from the darkness.  _ Fuck _ , he’s up an hour early. At least the sun would be setting within an hour or so, and perhaps under cover of darkness he might be able to hunt down a restaurant selling something to sate the gnawing hunger in his belly or at least quench the thirst that’s making him feel overheated, especially in the hot spring weather of India.

Maybe he should just go live in the damned forests. Hunt for a living, or something. Drink water from the as-yet-unpolluted streams, be some sort of cryptid people tell scary stories about late at night.

Yeah, that’d be cool.

Cooler than what he’s doing now, at least.

It’s a bit of a relief when he happens across a little hole in the wall serving soup and rice with no other customers inside. The warm, plain rice and steaming chicken broth is easier on his digestive tract than a lot of foods are, and the simple, strong smell is something he’s still able to enjoy even with most of his taste buds gone. A small blessing in what he’s come to view as his remarkably cursed life. Much like how the man serving him the meal pointedly directs his attention away from Genji’s scarred, half-artificial face as he eats.

Once he’s emptied both bowls, he politely asks the man behind the counter if they have anything non-perishable he might be able to purchase, and has to prevent himself from heaving a sigh of relief when the man nods without looking up, saying they have rice crackers and some dried fruits and meats in the back. Genji waits as he gathers them up in small plastic bags, barely taking note when someone sits to his right.

Or at least, he doesn’t until he remembers there’s no chair to his right.

When he turns, he’s pretty sure he’s halfway hallucinating. An omnic hovers, legs crossed and hands lightly intertwined in his lap, looking directly at Genji with what he can only interpret as either curiosity or intent. Orbs float around his head.

_ Uh-oh, that’s a Shambali monk _ , he realizes.  _ Great, I get to hear him preach to me about religion and inner peace. _

He braces himself, but the monk simply continues to stare… expectantly?

“... Can I help you?” He rasps out, a little more harshly than intended.

The omnic takes a moment to respond, seeming to turn his words over in his… motherboard? Genji doesn’t really know how omnics work, if he’s honest. “No, I do not believe you can.” He pauses,  _ pointedly _ . “However, perhaps I may be of assistance to you, my friend.”

He feels himself bristling at the omnic’s assumption, and it takes all his willpower to not snarl at the omnic from behind his mask as he stiffly takes the bags of food from the shop owner and stuffs them in his pack, placing several bills on the counter. “No, I don’t think you can be.” He thanks the shop-owner and heads out of the shop, slinging his pack over his shoulder again and leaving the nosy omnic monk behind.

...Or, at least that was the idea. The monk simply follows him from a short distance, silent.

Genji makes a point of refusing to acknowledge the monk’s presence as he moves through the city. The bot’s lucky that today Genji had no work, otherwise he’d have lost his temper within the first half hour of being followed.

By midnight, he’s irritated enough that he chances a glare at the omnic, sitting beside him on the bus and pointedly staring at him  _ still _ . Did this guy just not understand the sentiment of “fuck off?”

When Genji gets off the bus just outside the city, and the omnic  _ still _ follows him, he turns on his heel. 

“Do you have  _ nothing _ better to do than stalk me?”

The omnic tilts his head this way and that. “I seek only to guide the lost. Such as yourself.”

Lost? Sure, he wouldn’t argue that he was completely, utterly lost and purposeless. People with goals didn’t wander around taking up assassination contracts, after all. But the fact that this random, creepy omnic was so determined on worming his way into  _ his _ business rubs Genji the wrong way.

“Find another stray to pick up.” He says gruffly.

He’s certain this is the end of the matter, but when he looks back about an hour of walking later, the damned omnic is  _ still _ there.

“...”

“A lovely night, is it not?” The omnic says, absent-mindedly.

“Leave.”

“I will not.”

It’s such a simple, steadfast refusal that Genji has to take a second to just  _ look _ at the robot.

“You will cease this stalking, or I will  _ make _ you.” He grinds out.

The omnic seems very much unconcerned with his threat. “What is it that troubles you so?”

“That is my problem. Not yours.  _ Leave _ .” His hand reaches for his blade at his back, a final warning to this endlessly stubborn monk.

The omnic simply tilts his head. “Your threat is of little concern, my friend. I would recommend you simply accept my help, for your own sake.” Was that meant to be a threat?

He’s fast, Ryu Ichimonji drawn in a heartbeat and his legs carrying him towards the omnic at full-tilt. The poor, frail monk really should have minded his own business, but-

But suddenly there’s pain blooming through his knee, and he’s been flipped onto his face.

...What?

“How ignorant you are to believe I would provoke one with such sharp teeth and  _ not _ be prepared to fend off a bite.” Drones the voice above him.

He looks up, preparing to launch another strike, but a firm kick connects with his face as he tries to push himself up.

“It would be wise to stay down until you have calmed yourself.”

Another attempt, again shut down with a  _ thwack  _ to the back of his skull, just hard enough to disorient him, but not quite enough to do any real damage.

The robotic voice sighs. “You refuse to learn.”

This pattern continues on for some time, with Genji desperately attempting to strike at the robot, and the monk effortlessly shutting him down each time, slowly wearing him out.

Eventually, he lies in the dirt, exhausted. His blade is in his hand, but he can’t find the strength to lift it when he’s this tired.

Mechanical humming comes from above him. “Have you accepted defeat, yet? Or must we continue to waste your time?”

He grits his teeth, synthetic tissue grinding against bone. He barely has the energy to lift himself up off the ground, wincing at what are surely bruises on his flesh beneath the armor. For such a dainty-looking robot, he certainly knows how to throw a punch.

Or, rather, a kick.

The omnic can’t see his glare behind the mask, but Genji’s certain he knows regardless.

“You yield, then?”

He grumbles something along the lines of an affirmation and the omnic relaxes.

“Wonderful. Where are we headed?”

Genji grunts as he hefts Ryu Ichimonji up, and then back into its sheath. “Don’t care.”

The omnic hums thoughtfully. “You have no destination?”

“No.”

“Perhaps you would not mind traveling West, then?”

He raises an eyebrow at the question, a habit he’s kept despite having his face covered more often than not.

“I thought you didn’t have anywhere to be.”

“Merely a suggestion. The dry heat of the desert can be easier on electronics and mechanics alike than this humidity.” He seems to smile, despite his metal face plate leaving no room for any facial expression. “I merely thought it convenient for both of us.”

“...” Genji says nothing more, but begins trudging West. A stubborn, irritatingly-optimistic omnic follows.


End file.
